by Aaron Karo
“We can work this out. We always do. We can still be besties.”
“We can’t,” she says. “You lied to me. You kept secrets from me. You betrayed me.”
“One day we’ll look back at this and laugh.”
“Maybe you will,” she says as she stands up.
I’m still on my knee on the floor. She takes her Fitbit off and gives it to me. I feel like she is handing me her bloodied heart on a platter.
“Don’t talk to me anymore. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I don’t want to know you.”
“Please,” I say. “Jak, let me make it up to you. I can make this right.”
“I thought I was different,” she says. “I thought you treated me better.”
“You are! I do!”
“Yeah, well, I hope your next best friend is more understanding.”
And with that she walks out of the room, but not before shutting off the lights and leaving me in the dark.
36
THE PAST WEEK OR SO has been a blur. And not the good kind of blur, either. A really, really bad blur. Devastated by the Galgorithm exposé and my falling out with Jak, I’ve tried to avoid my other classmates as much as possible. Fortunately, AP exams were administered at the middle school in Kingsview, which kept me away from much of the high school population for a few days. On the other days, I stayed home, either claiming to be studying or faking sick.
I think my exams went fine. I felt strangely in the zone during the tests because it was a bit of relief from the chaos in my personal life. Who knew that humiliation and heartbreak could be a substitute for Adderall.
Meanwhile, the baseball team has begun its playoff push, led by my archnemesis Harrison. I have stayed far away from the games, of course. I don’t really care about baseball anyway, but am secretly rooting for us to maintain this winning streak. It keeps Harrison focused more on charging the batter’s box at the tiniest provocation and less on charging at me.
We’ve reached mid-May and there’s only six weeks of high school left, but I feel totally numb. Being without Jak has been the hardest part. She’s completely shut me out. Won’t return my texts. Blocked me on Insta. Something that has been a part of me my whole life is now suddenly gone; I feel like I’m missing a limb. I’ve tried to apologize to her every way I know how, but nothing seems sufficient.
My feelings for Jak have not diminished or wavered in any way. If anything, they’ve only intensified. I love her and I want to spend every waking moment we have left together, which makes our rift that much more painful. She’s totally disappeared from my world. If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then my heart has grown as fond as possible and is about to burst out of my chest.
I’ve tried to tell Tristen that she should move on, that I’m not the right guy for her, and that she deserves better. But as much as Jak refuses to let me in, Tristen refuses to let me go.
I feel like I’ve been misunderstood. Not just by Jak, but by everyone who read the article about me and gasped. People seem to think that I was pulling strings and scheming behind the scenes. But all my advice ever did was stop guys from being their own worst enemies.
Right now, though, I’m learning that the benefits of all my advice are only temporary. When I spot Reed sitting in a booth at the pizza place on Hickory—the site of his and Marisol’s first date—I immediately notice a difference in him. His posture is poor. His hair is unkempt. His T-shirt is rumpled. I’m pretty sure he’s wearing those dumpy jeans his mom bought him. Probably no belt, either. In the time since the Galgorithm was exposed, Reed has regressed to his old self. His swagger is gone.
I join him in the booth. “Hey, man.”
“Hey, Shane,” he says, not as enthusiastically as the last time we chatted, but friendly nonetheless.
“Thanks for suggesting this,” I say. “I really needed to get out of the house.”
“No problem,” he says. “I have a lot of good memories of this place.”
The restaurant is small, only a few tables, and there’s no air-conditioning, just two ceiling fans. It’s hot, and the walls are red brick, so it feels like you’re actually inside a brick pizza oven.
Reed hasn’t ordered yet, so I figure I’ll just wait until he’s ready. In the meantime, there are some unfortunate developments that need to be discussed.
“I heard about Marisol,” I say.
Reed hangs his head.
Like Brooke, when Marisol saw the article and blog post about the Galgorithm, she thought some of the “techniques” seemed familiar. Eventually she figured out that Reed was a client of mine. Then she broke up with him.
“It sucks, Shane.”
“Remember how one of the very first things I ever taught you was to be positive as much as possible and to apologize as little as possible?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“I think it’s okay to be negative now. And also: I’m sorry.”
Something makes me think I’m gonna be apologizing a lot in the coming weeks.
“Hey, if it wasn’t for you, I never would have been dating Marisol in the first place.”
“Still, if she broke up with you over something I did, then it’s my fault. What did she say?”
“Just that she was embarrassed. And she felt like I lied to her. Like our whole relationship was based on me being creepy.”
“Have you tried talking to her since? Given her some time to cool off?”
“Right now she’s not returning any of my calls.” He sighs. “I figure if I can’t be with Marisol, then I don’t want to be with anyone else. So I changed back to my old clothes. That way no one will ever want to date me, like it’s supposed to be.”
“Don’t say that, Reed. You know as well as I do that Marisol never went for you because you updated your wardrobe.”
“Is this where you give me the ‘it’s what’s inside that counts’ speech? Because I’m really not in the mood.”
“Fair enough,” I say, allowing him space. “So what’s the scene been like at school?”
“Oh, you know Kingsview. Everyone’s got the attention span of a fruit fly. A lot of people have moved on. The baseball team is all the rage now. Some of the girls are still pissed. But you’ve developed quite the cult following among the, let’s say, socially challenged crowd.”
This I knew. Every nerd, geek, and dweeb in town has been messaging me asking for advice. Advice for what? I think to myself. How to end up alone? I haven’t responded to any of them.
“Have you seen Jak?” I ask.
“She’s around. Kinda has a sour look on her face.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t really mean anything. That’s her normal look. She looks that way on her birthday.”
Reed shrugs.
“Let me ask you a question,” I say. “Me and Jak. When you were around us, did you ever think that, I don’t know, maybe we could be more than just friends?”
He chuckles.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you kidding me? You two are like obsessed with each other. I’ve never seen two ‘friends’ who more obviously want to hook up.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes! I mean, clearly you’re in love with her. Me and a couple of my Dungeons and Dragons buddies used to make fun of you on Twitter. ‘Shane and Jak equals #Shak.’”
“A hashtag? Really?”
“Hey, before you took me on as a client, I had a lot of free time.”
“How come you never told me that I was in love with her!”
“It’s kind of a thing you gotta figure out on your own.”
Very, very true. Though running into Faith also didn’t hurt. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I ruined everything with Jak.
Reed and I stare into space for a while, each pondering our meager existence. I used to think that Reed could be my prot�
�gé. Then he swept Marisol off her feet, and I thought the pupil had become the master. Now I look at us as equals: two hopeless outcasts.
This can’t be how it ends.
“Reed, you know what would be even sweeter than winning over Marisol in the first place?” I ask.
“Being a male model who women flock to without even trying?”
“Well, yeah, I guess that would be pretty sweet. But what I was gonna say was winning her back.”
“Winning Marisol back?”
“Yeah!” I say, trying to pump Reed up.
“I don’t know. I think I might need to take a break.”
“I’m telling you, you could do it, Reed. You don’t even need me anymore. I already taught you everything I know.”
“You really believe that?”
I can tell his confidence is buried in there, somewhere.
“Absolutely,” I say. “But this time, you do it on your terms. Don’t be embarrassed about playing Dungeons and Dragons. Don’t hide that from her. Don’t spend hours planning and preparing. Just do it. Just like you did that day in the courtyard. That should be your whole relationship: going with your gut, being yourself, owning you!”
Reed starts to nod his head. As far as motivational speeches go, this hasn’t been my finest. But I just want Reed to know that he can do it.
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe you’re right. If me and Marisol were meant to be together, then we should be together, no matter what.”
“Exactly!”
“I’m just gonna talk to her, I’m gonna be honest, I’m gonna explain myself, I’m gonna apologize, and then she’s gonna take me back!”
“That’s the spirit.”
It’s the first time in a while that either of us has smiled.
“Huzzah!” I shout, and Reed beams.
37
I FINALLY GET THE COURAGE to suck it up and head back to school with my head held high.
Okay, that’s not really true. I’m only going to school after trying to push my luck and fake sick for one more day. My parents called my bluff. Next thing I knew I was in my Jeep, driving into the eye of the storm.
After I park, I walk the most circuitous route possible from my car to the school. I’m still trying to steel myself to face my peers and possibly—hopefully—run into Jak. I make the ill-fated decision to cut through the faculty lot, and it is there that I see the source of much of my troubles: Mr. Kimbrough, slumped in his car once again, moping.
Apparently, my pity for the guy knows no bounds, or maybe I’m just procrastinating, because I decide to make my way to his car. He doesn’t even notice as I walk up to the driver’s-side window.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Deb ended things.”
He doesn’t look at me or say anything but acknowledges I’m correct by solemnly unlocking the passenger side door. Mr. Kimbrough could rightly be blamed for destroying my life. But for some reason I have a soft spot for him. I can’t hold a grudge. He deserves to be as happy as the next guy. And I sure as hell don’t want to end up like him when I’m in my thirties. I reluctantly get in the car.
“What happened?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “Well, thanks to you, Deb finally started responding to my texts. She eventually told me that she had feelings for me, and that she only went radio silent after we spent the night together because it freaked her out that we’re coworkers.”
“Ahhh,” I say. At least that’s one mystery solved.
“And then we started chatting again,” he continues. “We had lunch one day. I thought we were hitting it off. We had plans to go out.”
“So, what? She found out about the Galgorithm, got offended, and that was that?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Stupid school newspaper. I mean, who even reads that thing anyway? Instead of running editorials about how we need two-ply toilet paper in the bathrooms, how about using the Chronicle to wipe your—”
“Shane,” Mr. Kimbrough interjects. “You don’t understand. Deb didn’t find out about the Galgorithm from the newspaper.”
“Yeah, well, people were talking about it in the halls, it was all over Facebook . . .”
“No, I mean Deb knew about the Galgorithm before it was in the paper.”
“How is that possible?”
“She read my blog, Shane.”
“Okay . . .”
“No, I mean I never told her about Humble Pi. In fact, I kept it a secret from her. After we reconnected and we had lunch, she must have found the blog herself and started reading it on her own. She liked my blog, Shane! My blog! She liked me! And I screwed it up.”
He buries his face in his hands.
“I’m sorry, Bob.” I pat him on the shoulder. “But I still don’t understand what you were thinking. I mean, if what I was telling you was working so well, why post it for everyone to see? Why risk Deb ever knowing?”
He looks at me. “I don’t know! I was just so excited. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t think anyone would care. No one ever went to my blog. I certainly didn’t think Deb had it bookmarked.”
I shake my head. Love will make you do crazy things.
“After I saw you in the computer lab,” he continues, “I tried to head her off. But it was already too late. She told me that she’d read that post the day before. She also told me she was disgusted and that she never wanted to speak to me again. I tried to tell her it was meant to be a joke. But she wouldn’t have any of it. Not after I used it on her.”
I feel bad for Bob. I was growing to like Ms. Solomon. I mean, she single-handedly rescued me from Harrison in the student-government office. And she didn’t bat an eye when I interrupted her class while searching for Jak. She’s good people.
“Again, Shane, I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused you. You went out of your way to help me, a pathetic old teacher, and I repaid you by totally botching everything. I took advantage of your trust, and I’m really embarrassed by my behavior.”
“It’s okay. Things happen.” I sorta believe what I’m saying.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he says, “I decided to take the entire blog down after all. Who knows how far it’s already spread, but at this point I’d rather just be done with it. Also I didn’t want to get fired. I’m on thin ice as it is.”
“Huh,” I say. “So the Galgorithm and Humble Pi are both retired. It’s truly the end of an era.”
“Yeah, I was sad to hear you’ll no longer be . . . advising the less fortunate,” Mr. Kimbrough says. “That seems like the kind of thing that would serve you well in college.”
“Nah,” I say. “That’s not who I am anymore. It’s too much of a crutch. Something to hide behind. I need to start taking my own advice and just be me.”
As soon as I figure out who that is. . . .
“So what about Deb?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Bob says. “I miss her. I miss just hearing her voice.”
“Is it worth it for you to try to talk to her again and explain?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. I mean, we work together. It was probably inappropriate for me to ask her out in the first place. Plus she just got direct deposit. So there go all those Thursdays when I got to stand next to her while she tore open those checks. She was always so happy. I really looked forward to those days.”
“Out of curiosity, did you—”
“Notice any Pavlovian conditioning? No. Not at all. But I did enjoy getting to spend that time with her.”
“Got it. Thought so.”
“Seeing her around school lately has been tough. Knowing I hurt her. Knowing I had a chance but I ruined it. I realize it sounds corny and we didn’t date that long . . . but I think I was falling for her.”
“Hey, Bob. Never say never.”
“I just wis
h I hadn’t acted like the square root of two.”
I shake my head. “What?”
“Irrational. I wish I hadn’t been so irrational.”
I pat Bob on the shoulder again. I’m surprisingly glad he hasn’t lost his sense of humor.
38
I WAIT UNTIL MR. KIMBROUGH has gathered himself, and then we get out of his car together. When he’s finally ready to head into school, though, I leave him to double back to grab my phone, which I forgot in my own car.
When I get close to my parking spot, I see a magnificent sight: Tristen, with her back to me, bent over next to my car, in those short jean shorts I love so much. But my initial arousal very quickly turns to dismay—what the hell is she doing?
I jog the last twenty feet to my car, calling her name. She quickly stands up and coyly hides something behind her back. I immediately expect the worst.
“Tristen,” I say when I reach her, “please don’t tell me you’re slashing my tires or something crazy like that.”
She shakes her head no.
“Then what are you doing?”
She shows me her hands: She’s holding a pen and a piece of paper.
“I was leaving you a note. Your tire is low.”
Now I feel bad.
“Oh. Um, thanks.”
Then I hear the sssssssssssss of air leaking from my front right tire, right where Tristen is standing. I take a closer look. The valve has been loosened.
“Were you leaving me a note . . . after you let the air out?”
She shrugs.
My relationship with Tristen has been a roller coaster. First I underestimated her. Then we totally connected. Unfortunately, that coincided with me starting to crush on Jak. I’ve been trying to end things with Tristen, but instead have fallen into a trap as old as time: By pushing her away, I’ve unintentionally made her like me even more. Most disconcerting is how erratic Tristen has been behaving lately, for instance right now.
“You’re back at school!” she says, as my tire continues to leak. “Are you feeling better?”
I recall that Tristen is the one who first discovered Humble Pi and showed it to Brooke. Which means Tristen could have known for weeks that I used the Galgorithm on her. Maybe she’s just upset and this is her way of acting out.